


Love On The Fly

by pennyroads



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Accidental Proposal, F/M, FWP - fluff without plot, Side Cheronica, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, children as plot devices, meet cute, puns, self-indulgent goop, side archie/sabrina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 20:43:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyroads/pseuds/pennyroads
Summary: Tired and cranky, the last thing Betty needs is to lose her late grandmother’s engagement ring in the middle of a busy airport terminal.Jughead is not in the habit of crashing into pretty women in crowded spaces, but this time fate may be on his side.Him — on his knees, holding a ring.Her — smiling, crying.The crowd around them may or may not think that he’s proposing.Say Yes?





	Love On The Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an anon prompt for another ship, which I just *had* to repurpose for Bughead. 
> 
> Thank you to @greywind__stark for taking a look at this and assuring me that it isn’t complete garbage. She’s a very generous liar! 
> 
> If you’ve ever read anything I’ve written, you probably know what to expect — an overflowing cauldron of fluff. I recommend that you grab the Pepto-Bismol before starting. Enjoy!

“_ Attention, this is a passenger announcement. Please do not leave luggage unattended. Any items considered suspicious will be removed immediately _.” 

Betty sighed. It was the 25th time she heard that same monotone, computer generated voice. She was keeping track, for lack of anything better to do. 

The information screen above her designated carousel remained unchanged since she had deboarded the plane and arrived at the baggage claim area, one hour prior: _ Waiting for bags._

“No shit,” she muttered, pressing the palms of her hands against tired, red-rimmed eyes. 

The flight from New York to LA had been a nightmare, and the guy sitting next to her had shown no sense of courtesy or respect for personal space. Betty was usually a generous seatmate; she didn’t mind relinquishing the use of the armrest, or even scooching a little to allow someone more leg room, but this jackass had made use of all the available space, forcing Betty to remain rod-straight, cramped and tense for the entirety of the flight. Her jaw had yet to unclench.

She had been too tired to argue, too emotionally drained to do more than toss him a look of utter contempt, which he seemed impervious to. 

_ I need sleep. _ Ideally, Betty would have liked to wipe the entire weekend from her memory.

A chubby toddler with soft, dark curls teetered past her, squealing with glee as his older sister chased him around the conveyor belts. _ I’m gonna get you, baby Ben! _ He lost his balance somewhere between carousel 9 and 10 and flopped to the ground with a loud thud. His bright, round eyes filled with tears, lip quivering timidly with the beginning of a sob. His sister fussed over him worriedly until their mother came and scooped him up, rubbing a gentle hand over his back and shushing him before he could start crying in earnest. She carried him over to where the rest of the family was waiting for their luggage, the older girl trailing behind morosely. 

Betty chuckled as the children managed to escape, just as their mother turned around, and resumed their game. 

The scene reminded her of her cousin Cheryl’s little girl, also a bit of a free spirit, and how she had kept crying during the funeral service, tired of being strapped to her buggie. Cheryl’s wife Veronica had ultimately decided to leave altogether, claiming that a funeral was no place for a child. 

Betty has always liked Veronica. She was funny and honest, but not in the mean-spirited way so many of Betty’s own relatives always were; they saw it as a valuable personality trait instead of a character flaw. 

Cheryl and Veronica made a good pair. Two strong women, who, at first glance, were polar opposites, but ended up balancing each other out really well. _ The Sain-Laurent Ying to My Chanel Yang _, Veronica had once said. 

Betty was happy for her cousin. Bold and brash even as a baby screaming from her crib, Cheryl had always been a little chaotic. It was nice to see that Veronica’s influence had softened some of Cheryl’s sharper edges. 

Grandma Rose’s funeral — the reason behind Betty’s weekend trip to her home state — had been, predictably, a sad affair. Betty’s gentler nature had always stuck out like a sore thumb among her family. Nana Rose had been her only champion, making sure Betty knew that being kind and generous was a good thing; something to be cherished and nurtured. Her death, though expected after a long battle with illness, was a tough blow. 

Betty reached inside the pocket of her blazer, feeling around for the ring she had placed there for safekeeping after going through airport security.

It was her grandmother’s diamond engagement ring, the only thing Betty had wanted to keep from a long list of items left to her on the will. She had loathed having to place it in the plastic container alongside her keys and cell phone. Her eyes had followed it like a hawk as it progressed further away and into the x-Ray machine. 

She took it out from her pocket and her heart lurched at the familiar sight. 

Betty had always loved it. 

The yellow gold band was thin and understated. In the center, a round old mine cut diamond with an intricate crown detailing reflected the bright overhead lights of the airport hangar. It was the kind of ring that old Hollywood starlets would have given their beaus; it exuded all the grace and effortless beauty of a time gone by. 

It was worth a lot of money, but its sentimental value was infinitely more precious. The ring held memories of the time Betty had spent with her grandmother, who had a penchant for the dramatics and often told stories from her own youth with all the pomp and circumstance of an adventurous lady of leisure from one of the period dramas she had read as a teenager. It sprouted in Betty the kind of creative flair that eventually inspired her to pursue a career in the arts. 

Nana Rose had wanted her to keep the ring, and despite her mother’s protestations, she had. _ Honestly, Betty, your sister Polly should have it. It’s such a waste on you. You don’t even have a boyfriend _, her mother said. It stung. But after eighteen years of living under Alice Cooper’s roof, Betty’s skin had grown thick. The barbs pricked, but didn’t cut. 

Betty hadn’t allowed room for argument. She took the ring but left the rest, including a chest full of her grandmother’s old designer dresses, which she would've loved to have kept, but not enough to make arguing with her mother worth the while. After the funeral, she left without turning back, certain that now that the last tie had been snipped, there was no reason for her to ever go back to Riverdale. 

_ I miss you already. _ The ring burned a hole in her hand. 

Betty was jostled from her thoughts when a stranger crashed into her from behind, catching her unaware. Her hands shot out to grab onto the nearest surface, which was, incidentally, the person who had nearly made her topple over. In doing so, her grandmother’s ring fell from her hold and clattered to her feet. 

“Oh _ fuck _, I’m so sorry—” 

  


———

  


Jughead shuffled closer to carousel 7, dropping his heavy backpack on the floor and pushing it to the side with his foot. He hated traveling; the endless queuing, the overpriced food, the casual harassment of airline employees by frazzled, entitled passengers, the screaming infants. It was a nightmare. He would much rather have been sat on the back of his motorcycle than stuck inside a tin can flying hundreds of miles above the ground. 

Unfortunately for him, a cross-country road trip hadn’t been an option, as he doubted Archie would have appreciated if his best man had shown up to the wedding late, unevenly sunburnt and smelling like a vagrant. 

Jughead stared forlornly at the information screen, mentally willing it to update its status. Occasionally, the words would disappear and rearrange themselves, only to display the exact same message. The longer he stared, the more it seemed like it was mocking him. He wondered who was in charge of those things; if it was a sadistic IT tech who enjoyed toying with people’s emotions. _ You’ve got a conspiracy theory for everything, haven’t you _ ? Archie had once asked. _ I’m just observant _ , he’d riposted. _ Maybe if you observed a little less, you’d see a little more action - if you know what I mean _, Archie’s friend Reggie had snickered. His lurid smirk left no room for interpretation. 

It was safe to say that he and Reggie didn’t usually see eye to eye, which was unfortunate, given the fact that he was another one of Archie’s closest friends, and it meant that Jughead had to be around him more than he ever wished to. Like that very weekend; first during the bachelor party — a boring affair at the country club organized by Reggie, who had probably become a member as soon as his grandparents learned of his conception — and then again during the _ second _ bachelor party, hosted by Jughead at Pop’s, their old high school hangout spot. 

Living across the country from his childhood best friend meant that they saw less of each other than either would’ve liked, and Jughead missed hanging out with him, just the two of them shooting the shit at Pop’s over greasy burgers and greasier fries, and milkshakes so thick and sweet you could eat them by the spoonful, like ice cream. 

The wedding itself had been beautiful. Even Jughead, a born cynic with an allergy to public displays of affection and frivolous, large scale events, had to admit that everything looked tasteful and elegant and that the food, _god_ _the food_, was incredible. He was sure Archie’s fiancé — Christ, his _wife_ now, how crazy did that sound? — Sabrina was responsible for that. 

Jughead was by no means surprised when Archie had called him to say that he was getting married. 

Archie and Sabrina had been high school sweethearts, attached at the hip since freshman year when Archie was no more than a ginger beanpole with subpar guitar playing skills. Sabrina had looked past his pastiness — which Jughead thought to have been incredibly generous of her — and realized that he had potential, much to the surprise of everyone (most of all Archie’s). 

When Archie came back from Camp, the summer after sophomore year, looking like a sculpted teenaged Greek god, everyone in school had been shocked. Everyone, that is, but Sabrina. _ Did you cast some kind of magic spell on him, ‘Brina? _ their friends had teased. A mischievous smirk was all they ever got in reply. They were used to it. Sabrina Spellman had always had a certain air of mystery surrounding her. 

A high-pitched giggle interrupted Jughead’s thoughts, and he looked down just in time to see a tiny human come barreling towards his legs. 

His efforts to dodge out of the way of the toddler sent him crashing against an unsuspecting victim standing a few steps away. 

“Oh _ fuck _, I’m so sorry—” the words died in his throat. 

He noticed her eyes first. _ Green _. Staring up at him, bright and alert. He realized he was holding her a little too close when her look of surprise morphed into confusion and then soured into something akin to dread. He dropped his hold on her arms, taking a couple of steps back. 

Her eyes immediately dropped to the floor, scanning it in a panic. 

“Hey, I’m really sorry for barging into you. Did you lose something?” Jughead asked. She didn’t look up. 

Jughead struggled to hear her reply. “Your what?” 

“_ My ring _,” she repeated, louder. She looked utterly devastated, and it made something in Jughead’s chest ache. 

“My grandmother's ring. It fell and I can’t find it.” 

The wobble in her voice spurred Jughead into action. 

“Let me see if I can—” 

He saw it as soon as he shifted his backpack. It was hidden under one of the straps, perfectly still and sparkling. Relief flooded him, even though it wasn’t his ring and he didn’t even know this person. 

He knelt down and picked it up, examining it under the bright fluorescent lights. Jughead was by no means a ring enthusiast, but this seemed like a nice one. It was simple, but very pretty. Elegant. _ It suits her, _ he thought. 

And then— _ It’s an engagement ring _, he realized belatedly. Which had to mean that she was engaged. Jughead felt the bitter bite of disappointment, even though he knew, logically, that it was ridiculous. 

“Hey,” He called out, holding it up. The girl turned. Once she noticed the ring, her hands went flying to her mouth, barely concealing the sob that escaped. She closed her eyes momentarily and her chest rose with a long, deep breath of relief. A tear rolled down her smooth cheek and stopped at the corner of her lips, which were curling into a bright smile. 

“Look, mom! That man is _ proposing _!” 

The little girl’s shout rang out across the terminal. 

Everyone’s eyes snapped to them. 

To Jughead — down on one knee, holding a ring.

To the girl — smiling, crying. 

He realized that the optics were certainly misleading. But instead of the panic brewing in Jughead’s chest, the stranger seemed oddly amused. She looked around, scanning their quickly growing audience of fellow travelers. Jughead risked a look; there were already people _ recording _ them. He swallowed; calculated how long it would take him to drop the ring in her hands and flee the scene, luggage be damned. Who needed clothes, anyway? He basically wore the same thing every day. 

But this girl clearly had a different idea. 

“_ Say yes _!” someone shouted excitedly from the crowd. 

The girl’s smile turned mischievous. There was an unmistakable glint in her eyes that spelled trouble— for him, at least. 

“Yes!” she exclaimed, smiling brightly down at him. The crowd cheered and clapped, shouting words of encouragement. _ Congratulations _ ! and _ this is so much better than a flash mob. _

Jughead was struck dumb. 

“Uh…” 

“Come up here,” she whispered. He wasn’t even all the way upright before she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him in for a hug. _ She smells like lillies, _was the first thing that crossed his mind. 

Her hands came up to wrap themselves around his waist and he could feel her heart beating against his chest. Or maybe it was _ his _ heart, beating loud enough for the both of them. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do,” she whispered against his neck. 

“It’s—it’s okay.” 

“It seemed easier than explaining that this was all a misunderstanding.” 

“Yeah. No, totally,” Jughead replied. He felt like an idiot, unable to scrounge up a decent sentence. But the hug felt… _ nice _. And Jughead Jones was anything but a hugger. He found himself unwilling to let go. 

She didn’t pull away. 

Instead, her feet shuffled closer. His arms tightened around her lean frame. Her hair tickled his nose and an involuntary sigh escaped from his lips. 

“_ Kiss _ !” the little girl shouted. “ _ Kiss her like a Disney princess _!”

Jughead froze. He felt the woman in his arms tense and was fully prepared to let go and end the charade, but before he could, he heard: 

“Maybe…” 

His heart was racing as he pulled back just enough to peer into her eyes. Just then, she bit her lip and looked up at him with a look of vulnerability so disarming that it robbed him of breath and sealed his fate. 

“Maybe we could—”

“What if we—”

They chuckled. Jughead waited for her to speak first. 

“Just like two actors in a movie?” she offered. A blush crept onto her cheeks. _ Adorable _. 

“Sure, yeah.” Jughead’s reply was instantaneous. He cringed internally at his own overeagerness. 

  
  


_ This is madness _ , Betty thought. _ This is how people get herpes. _

But the rational part of her had vacated the premises; she was following her instincts. Never one to be reckless or wild, something inside Betty told her to let go and let loose and embrace the crazy in the situation she found herself and this tall, handsome stranger in. 

_ Momentary madness spurred by grief. _ That had to be it. 

Whatever it was, it made her say:

“Okay,” and reach up to wrap her hands around his dark hair, _ tug _, and pull him down towards her. It felt exhilarating to be in control. His breath hitched just before their lips touched— barely, just a peck — but it was enough to cause a shiver to run down her spine. 

She sighed against his lips. It didn’t feel odd or uncomfortable, kissing a stranger. Not _ this _ stranger. 

The other travelers’ cheers barely registered in her mind. Betty wasn’t usually fond of being the center of attention, but she didn’t mind it this time. She wasn’t bearing the weight of it alone. 

They drew back, smiles mirrored. Giddiness bubbled in Betty’s chest. The guy looked completely overwhelmed, which endeared him to her even more. His smile was lopsided, but genuine; his eyes dropped to her lips once, twice, before coming up to meet hers. He reached down for her hand and held up the ring, sliding it onto her finger. 

“There, _ fiancé _,” he teased. 

“Thank you,” she replied. Her cheeks hurt from smiling.

The blaring of a siren broke the spell, jolting them out of the strange reverie they’d found themselves in. They sprung back just as the conveyor belt started moving and bags came rolling down the mat. The crowd dispersed, people milling around trying to spot their luggage. Several passengers stopped to congratulate them, and they accepted every handshake with a polite _ thank you. _

  


Jughead was still dazed from the kiss. He took a cursory look at the carousel but turned back when he didn’t see his bag. 

“So...” he realized he didn’t know her name. 

“Betty,” she provided, extending an elegant, dainty hand. He took both gratefully, shaking the hand and memorizing the name. Betty raised a brow. _ Right _. He should reciprocate. 

“I’m Jughead.”

“_ Jughead _?” Betty snorted. “Is that a family name? Is your father Jughead senior?” 

It surprised a laugh out of him. He was charmed, and he didn’t care if it showed on his face. He’d known Betty for less than ten minutes, but he was more drawn to her than he’d ever been to any other person. 

“Not really. It’s just a tragic nickname.”

“I’d love to hear that story sometime.” 

And there was his opening. He took a deep breath. _ All or nothing. _

“Would you like to grab something to eat, maybe?” 

Her smile broadened, dimpling her cheeks. It was a gorgeous smile. Jughead made a mental note to tell her so, soon. 

“Absolutely. I’m duty-bound, after all. As the future Mrs…?”

“Jones,” Jughead provided. _ It suits you _, he thought.

“Right, as the future Mrs Jones, I’d say it’s only right that we share at least one meal before our nuptials.” 

Jughead furrowed his brow playfully. “That sounds sensible. Food is important. _ Very _ important.” 

“Oh, definitely,” she nodded. “Just so you know, I’m vegan.” 

Jughead was horrified. It probably showed on his face, because Betty took one look at him and burst out laughing. 

“Kidding!” Betty laughed. “God, you should’ve seen the look on your face. It was like I murdered your puppy.” 

“Neither I nor Hot Dog would ever allow a vegan into our household.” Jughead clutched his chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“You dog is named _ Hot Dog _?” Betty snorted. 

“Subtlety isn’t exactly my forté,” he shrugged.

Betty’s expression softened. “Well, lucky for you, future husband, I like meat far too much to ever give it up.” 

_ Future husband _. Those words didn’t make something flutter inside his chest, because Jughead wasn’t fourteen years old. Absolutely not. 

“Great, I know just the place. How do you feel about peanut butter on your burger?”

“Hmm. Sounds like a weird combo?”

Jughead chuckled. 

“You’ll soon find out that I’m a bit of a weirdo, wifey. Better get used to it.” 

~~~~~~<<<<>>>>>~~~~~~~

  
  
  
  
  


[](https://ibb.co/9qhjfrv)

**Author's Note:**

> Edits & extras on my tumblr @pennyroads


End file.
